There was a time, and it really wasn’t that long ago, that in order to be famous you had to accomplish something. Prior to the red carpet being rolled out for you and the nuisance of restaurant reservations being waived, it was necessary for you to write a book, appear in a blockbuster, sing a hit song, get elected, do something, something, that entitled you to the trappings of celebrity.
Blood, sweat, tear and toil were involved. People drove broken down station wagons to Hollywood and slept in them for years while they lost audition after audition. Bands toured the country 350 days a year, lugged their own equipment on stage and slept 10 to a motel room. People climbed mountains or flew the Atlantic. To achieve their fame they out-acted or out-funnied or out-played. They were the prettiest of, the best of, the smartest at, the first. And by being such they earned their place.
Even becoming infamous required a remarkable achievement. You needed to inspire your country to genocide, poison your followers with Kool-Aid, lead a group of murderous hippies or shoot a president. Certainly all terrible things to do, but at least there was effort involved, as evil as it may have been. Now all you have to do is blow a president and you get a line of handbags and a shitty TV show along with your infamy.
Celebrity of late has been handed out en masse, like driver’s licenses. Seemingly no one is denied their 15 minutes or longer, achievements or no. Usually the only effort required is wanting it. Somewhere there’s a camera crew ready to indulge you, film you eating a sandwich, and make you a star.
Currently, the most nauseating case in point has to be Paris Hilton. Her crowning accomplishment was being born into extreme wealth. That’s it. She has enjoyed a life of luxury beyond comprehension for most millionaires, never mind the thousandaires and hundredaires who populate the country. Void of responsibility, beholden to none. There has not been a moment in the girl’s life where her intellect or talent has been challenged or needed. And she has publicists to promote her underachievement. She’s Marie Antoinette 2003. Fortunately for her, they’re not beheading the rich who say dumb things anymore, they’re giving them TV shows. Between Fox’s Simple Life, HBO’s Born Rich and M-TV’s Rich Girls, it’s all the rage to make the rich famous. Because they’re rich, I guess.
What is particularly offensive with Hilton is that with all the resources afforded her, with all the opportunities at her disposal, she’s chosen the path of a trailer whore who’s won the lottery. An extra eighty pounds and she’d be Anna Nicole Smith.
Other women of significant wealth take noble causes under their wing, hold lavish fundraisers for the arts or social causes. At the very least, like Stella McCartney, they take advantage of their position and wealth to do something constructive. Lady Diana was pretty well off, but she didn’t pass the time videotaping sex romps, or posing outside Spago. She toured orphanages and hospitals. She played the part of the rich lady who didn’t have to do much of anything but did because it was the right thing to do. Not to mention good politics.
But Paris? Her aspirations have been limited to getting past the doormen at Bungalow 8 with minimal hassle and making uninspired porno with a sleazy ne’er-do-well. Most disturbing, after climbing those peaks of success she has not only acquired fame, but had a television show handed to her. Insult to injury, this week’s New York magazine goes so far as to include her among a collage on the cover of ‘stars’ gone wild. First she came, now she’s arrived.
With standards that low, there’s no reason you shouldn’t become a ‘star’ merely for buying a bagel and swearing at a homeless guy.
Us Magazine, which my wife continues to read despite my desperate plea, is constantly throwing new celebrities at me. I never saw ‘The Bachelor’ but apparently they’re eager for everyone to know how Bachelor Bob is doing, who Bachelor Bob loves, and what Bachelor Bob’s hopes and dreams are. As far as I can discern, Bachelor Bob is in the pages of Us for the crowning achievement of at one point not having a girlfriend, then looking for one. Hey, I didn’t have a girlfriend once. I didn’t get a show out of it.
My friend has become a popular musician as of late. He got there the old fashioned way. He’d go home and practice while the rest of us stayed out. He knew what he wanted and what it was going to take to get it. And, just as importantly, he had the talent you need to back it up. And the brains to make good decisions. He did it properly, and employed what it takes, or used to take, to be successful and famous. That’s admirable. But it’s also rare these days, where you can seemingly demand celebrity for the achievement of being Ozzy Osbourne’s daughter.
There’s been a lowering of the threshold here. I want celebrity to be earned again. If I’m going to be forced to deal with Us Magazine in my house, I want the celebrities to have earned their status. I want their glossy, cheap paper pages to bring me people who had fire in the belly, passion, focus. People who had some kind of talent. Like Madonna. I don’t particularly like her music. I think she puts on a lousy fake English accent like a RenFest reject. And she’s probably going to die lonely and sad after her star fades. But she’s a star. She earned it the hard way, clawing upward. She should be the role model for stardom. Not some girl who slobbered on Clinton’s shaft. Not some slutty socialite. Not a guy who filled out an application to be on Joe Millionaire for God’s sake. I want real stars again. People we can look up to. People we’ll miss when they die.
I want Pecks and Gables and Monroes. I don’t want to be told Shoshanna Lonstein is famous because she dated Jerry Seinfeld. I want the standards back. Otherwise, I’m liable to set the offices of Us ablaze. And then I’ll be a somebody.
Being friends with John Mayer–even with a sneaky “I’m not bragging but touch the undelrlined blue with your curious pointer and see his URL”–must make you at least a Hilton cousin, right? Greeeeaaat.
Oswald, this is Subtlety. Subtlety, Oswald.
A “curious pointer”? What browser are you using?
I thought this was neat. Fuck you Oswald for being smarmy. Why’d you click on it, then? If he hadn’t provided back up for the statement, you’d bitch about that. Go watch “Rich Girls” and beat off again.
amen to that. i read Us and it’s embarassing what we (well, I) find interesting in a person these days. where’s the depth? where’s the texture? someone please teach your kids something!
very well written brian! but as long as there are idiots out there that buy those mags and watch those shows, talentless hacks will still rise to ‘stardom’
John Mayer has only a scanty amount of talent, and I’m sorry you used him as an example of how to get famous, his slow claw to mid-level celebrity not withstanding. However, US magazine is the bible of the faux universe into which modern technology has thrust us, and genuine and brilliant. You, Brian, should high tail it over there and do the wife proud.
Who in fuck’s name is Paris Hilton? And why is she named after a hotel? Though I do feel it’s perfectly acceptable to be famous for making low class porn. Comfort yourself with the fact that celebrity (as opposed to fame) is a very, very localised affair. For example, nobody here has heard of Paris Hilton but they all know who Tom Jones is (sexbomb is the song du jour).
Brian,
I totally agree with you. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
excellent essay. my favourite aspect of this undeserved celebrity is the shared passion of both paris and monica- “handbag design”. they both…create (lord forgive me for using a word that neither deserve)…purses. wow. scintillating. don’t you think monica would’ve been fantastic as a spokeswoman for aids or safe sex? she’s always going to be associated with spooge and blow jobs…why not do sly commercials for trojan or kimono? not only are these celebrities so unworthy of the perks that flow their way, they are unimaginative idiots, too.
Paris Hilton is a real-life incarnation of the Adam Sandler character Billy Madison. The fact that she’s blonde and has a cute little body does not negate the fact that she is very nearly a completely useless individual.
A pox on her, people like her, and the whole media machine which makes people like her into plastic demi-gods.
Oh, lighten up. The girl is only 22 years old and a product of her own little twilight zone. What were any of us doing at 22 that was socially aligned with the greater good? All of us here, with our access to technology, are at a level of privilege as proportionally far above some people’s as Paris Hilton’s is above any of ours. Whatever would they write about us?
You got something against people who make purses? Kelley Deal makes purses. Purse making’s a fine craft.
Porn Rich
Although I entirely sympathize with your frustration, I’d like to point out that ridiculous, unnecessary, and undeserved wealth has, for much of history, been the main cause for celebrity. Think Kings, Queens, and all their upper-class pals… just because it’s wrong, doesn’t mean it used to be better!
Furthermore, today I bought a bagel and swore at a homeless guy. Where’s my tv show?
Agreed.
(& I’m still trying to understand what a blog roll is) So how come you have Defamer & Gawker links on your blog? These two sites perpetuate the feeding frenzy that fashions ‘celebrity’ out of nothing, so it’s curious that you would link to them.
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